The Bride (5 page)

Alec could see the fear in the old man's eyes. He walked back over to stand directly in front of the stable master. "What is it you wish to say to me?"

Beak decided the Kincaid's intuition was as unsettling as his size and voice. His own voice trembled when he blurted out his question. "Have you ever mistreated a woman in all your days, Alec Kincaid?"

It was obvious the laird didn't care for that question. His expression turned as fierce as a bolt of lightning. Beak took an instinctive step back and had to steady himself by bracing his hand against the wall.

"I've been patient with you because you're Scots, old man, but if you ever put such a foul question to me again, I swear it will be your last."

Beak nodded. "I need to know, inside my heart, because I'm set on giving you a great gift and I have to know you'll recognize its value, my lord."

"He speaks in riddles," Daniel stated. He walked over to stand next to Alec. His frown, Beak noted, was almost as fierce as the Kincaid's. "You've been in England too long, old man, asking such obscene questions."

"I know I ain't making a spit of sense," Beak admitted in a forlorn tone. "Yet if I blurt out the full of it, then it would make me disloyal in my mistress's eyes. I can't have that," he added. "She'd have my hide, she would."

"You admit to being afraid of a woman?" Daniel asked.

Beak ignored the astonished look on the man's face, ignored the laughter in his voice, too. "I'm afeared of no woman. I just don't want to break my word," he explained. "The lass means the world to me. I ain't ashamed to admit I love her like a daughter."

Beak valiantly tried to meet Alec's hard stare. It was a pitiful effort, though. Oh, how he wished the other warrior were the more powerful of the two. At least the one called Daniel smiled on occasion. "Are you strong enough to protect what belongs to you?" he asked the Kincaid, wanting to get to the heart of the matter as soon as possible.

"I am."

"Baron Andrew will call forth many soldiers. He'll come after the gift I'm giving you. He's also called friend by England's King Henry," Beak added, wobbling his eyebrows to emphasize that fact.

The Kincaid didn't seem impressed with that statement. He shrugged with indifference. "It would matter not to me."

"Who is this Baron Andrew?" Daniel asked.

"An Englishman," Beak answered.

"All the better," Alec said. "If I decide to take this gift you're offering, I'll welcome a challenge from an Englishman. He'll be no threat to me."

Beak visibly relaxed. "No it's about it," he boasted.

"Is your gift a horse perchance?" Daniel asked, shaking his head in confusion. He still didn't understand what the stable master was trying to tell Alec.

The Kincaid understood. "It isn't a horse, Daniel."

Beak grinned. The man was proving to be as astute as the best of them. "Once you see my gift, Laird Kincaid, you'll be set on having it, all right," he boasted. "Are you partial to blue eyes, milord?"

"Many have blue eyes in the Highlands, Beak," Daniel interjected.

"Well, now," Beak drawled out, "there's blue and then there's blue." He let out a loud chuckle, then cleared his throat and continued, "Now to me riddle, Laird Kincaid. Baron Jamison treats his daughters just like his horses and that's a fact. Only have a look around you and you'll get my meaning soon enough. The pretty little ladies in these three stalls are for the baron's daughters, right there for anyone to see. But if you'll walk down this long corridor and turn the bend, you'll see another stall hidden away in the far corner by the side door. It's separated from the others. That's where the baron keeps his beauty, a magnificent white pretty just waiting for a proper mating. Humor this daft old man, for I'm Scots if you'll remember, and take a good look at the horse," Beak urged, motioning the warriors forward. "It's worth your time especially, Laird Kincaid."

"He's caught my curiosity," Daniel told Alec.

Both men followed the stable master. Beak's manner changed considerably when they reached the stall. He poked a piece of straw between his front teeth, leaned against the wall with one foot casually crossed over the other, and proceeded to watch the high-strung filly put up a grand fuss when Alec reached out to stroke her. The side door was cracked open, letting the sun filter inside to cast a soft banner of light on the horse's silver mane.

The proud beauty wouldn't settle down for a good long while, but in the end, the warrior wooed her into showing a hint of her gentle nature. Beak only hoped the laird would gentle Jamie with just as much patience.

"She's a beauty, all right," Daniel remarked.

"Still half wild," Alec interjected. He actually smiled then, and Beak concluded being half wild wasn't a flaw in his mind.

"Her name's Wildfire and she's deserving of that name to be sure. The baron can't get near her. He gave her to his youngest daughter when it became evident she was the only one who could seat the horse."

Alec smiled again—a miracle, that—when the mare tried to bite his hand. "She's feisty. With a good stallion, the offspring will be sound—spirited, too."

Beak gave Alec another thorough inspection. When he met the warrior's gaze again, he was grinning. "That's exactly what I'm thinking about my gift to you."

Beak pulled away from the wall, affected an important air, then said, "As I was telling you, Laird Kincaid, the baron treats his daughters just like his horses. Three right up front for anyone to see…"

He vowed he wasn't going to say another word. It was up to the Scotsman to figure the rest of the riddle.

"Beak? Are you inside?"

The interruption came from Lady Jamie. Beak was so startled he almost swallowed the piece of straw he was chewing on. "That be the youngest of the baron's daughters," he told the two warriors. "And there's the side door," he added in a soft whisper. "If you're wanting to leave now, that's the quickest way to the main house. I'd best see what my Jamie is wanting."

For his advanced years, Beak could still move with surprising speed. He rounded the corner and caught Jamie and her sister Mary in the center of the hallway.

"Were you talking to someone, Beak?" Mary asked. "I thought I heard—"

"Just having a little visit with Wildfire," Beak lied.

"Jamie said you'd be napping and we'd be able to sneak right inside and take our mounts out for another quick run," Mary confessed.

"For heaven's sake, Mary, you needn't be telling him that."

"Well, you did say—"

"Shame on you, Jamie," Beak scolded. "I never nap and you shouldn't be sneaking around anywheres." He gave her a ridiculous grin. "It ain't ladylike."

"Yes, you do nap," Jamie told him. She found his smile contagious. "You're in a fit mood today, aren't you?"

"That I am," Beak admitted. He tried to hide his eagerness, for he certainly didn't want Jamie to suspect he was up to mischief. Beak wondered if the lairds were still lingering over Wildfire. Though the warrior Kincaid couldn't see Lady Jamie, Beak knew that her voice, so soft and husky, would certainly capture his attention.

"And what are the pair of you up to this fine afternoon, I'm wondering to meself?" Beak inquired.

"We wanted to go riding," Mary said. She gave Beak a puzzled look. "We just told you that. Are you feeling ill, Beak? Jamie, he looks flushed to me."

Jamie immediately reached up and touched Beak's forehead with the back of her hand. "He doesn't have fever," she told her sister.

"Quit your fretting over me," Beak said. "I'm fit as ever."

"Then you'll let us go riding for another hour or two?" Mary asked.

"You'll be walking and that's that," Beak announced. He folded his arms across his chest to show he meant what he'd said.

"Why can't we ride?" Mary asked.

"Because I've just bedded down the ladies," Beak said. "Your horses have been fed, pampered, and lulled to sleep."

Beak had only just finished giving that lie when he remembered the two great stallions feeding in the stalls adjacent to the front doors. He worried Jamie or Mary might take notice. The sisters usually came flying through the stables, though, and there was a good chance he could get them back outside before they took a real look around them.

"You should be getting ready for your company," Beak blurted out. He grabbed hold of Mary's right arm and Jamie's left and started dragging the two of them toward the entrance.

"Mary has convinced me not to worry about our unwanted guests on such a fine afternoon," Jamie explained. "Do quit tugging on my arm, Beak."

"We have three full days of freedom," Mary interjected. "Jamie still has plenty of time to get the household ready."

"You could try lending a hand, missy," Beak said. "It would do you good."

"Don't start nagging her, Beak. Mary would help if I asked her assistance."

Beak didn't look as if he believed that remark.

"Speaking of asking," Mary interjected, "there's something I want to ask you, Beak."

"Mary, don't bother Beak with questions now."

"I certainly am going to bother Beak," Mary told her sister. "I value his advice as much as you do. Besides, I want to know if you've told me the truth."

"What a sinful thing to say," Jamie replied. Her smile told Beak she really wasn't the least offended.

"Jamie told me all about these horrible Scots, Beak. I'm thinking of running away. What think you of that bold plan?"

Beak tried not to smile; Lady Mary looked so sincere. "It would depend on where you'd be running to, I suppose."

"Oh, well, I hadn't actually thought of a true destination yet…"

"I'm wondering why you'd want to run away, Mary," Beak said. "What sorry tales has your sister filled your head with? Do you think they're true or false?"

"Now, Beak, why would you think I'd lie to my sister?" Jamie asked, trying not to laugh.

"Because I know how your mind works, Jamie," Beak answered. "You've been at it again, haven't you? What stories have you teased your poor sister with today? I can see you got her quivering with fear. And I happen to know you don't know spit about the Scots."

"I know they've got the brains of sheep," Jamie answered. She winked at Beak when Mary wasn't noticing, then added, "Only those Scots born and raised in the Highlands, of course. The Lowland people are very intelligent, just like you, Beak."

"Don't try soothing me with pretty words," Beak countered. "It ain't going to work this time. I can see how worried Mary is. Why, she's wringing the skin right off her hands. What'd you tell her?"

"I merely mentioned that I'd heard the Scots were a lusty people."

"Well, now, Mary, that ain't so bad," Beak admitted.

"With big appetites," Mary interjected.

"And that's a sin?"

"It is," Mary answered.

"Gluttony," Jamie supplied, grinning.

"Jamie said they fight all the time."

"No, Mary, I said they fight most of the time. If you're going to repeat my remarks, do get them straight."

"Do they, Beak?"

"Do they what, Mary?"

"Fight all the time."

"I just said they liked to raid," Jamie announced with a delicate shrug.

Beak noticed the fine blush covering Jamie's high cheekbones. She was obviously embarrassed that her sister was telling on her.

Jamie was up to mischief, all right. She was looking just as guilty as she had the time she convinced Mary her papa had signed the order giving the convent guardianship.

She did like to jest. She was a sure sight to behold, too, dressed in Beak's favorite color, a deep royal blue. Her hair was unbound and the thick curls fell in chaotic splendor well past her slender shoulders. There were smudges of dirt on her nose and chin.

Beak wished Laird Kincaid could get a clear look at Jamie now, for her violet eyes fairly sparkled with joy.

Mary looked just as appealing. She wore pink today, but the pretty gown was bothered with splotches of dirt. Beak wondered what trouble the two sisters had gotten into, then decided he really didn't want to know.

He was pulled back to the topic of the Scotsmen when Mary blurted out, "Jamie told me the Scots take what they want when they want it. She also said they have special preferences."

"And what might those be?" Beak asked.

"Strong horses, fat sheep, and soft women," Mary said.

"Horses, sheep, and women?"

"Yes, Beak, and in that order. Jamie says they'd rather sleep next to their horses than their women. Well? Is it true? Do the women come last?"

Beak didn't answer Mary. He stared at Jamie, silently willing her with his frown to answer her sister. He thought Jamie looked a bit distressed, yet wasn't certain if she was about to burst into apology or laughter.

Laughter won out. "Honestly, Mary, I was only teasing you."

"Just look at the two of you," Beak announced. "Covered with dirt like peasant babies. Fine ladies, indeed! And you, missy," he added, pointing his finger at Jamie, "laughing like a loon. Just what were you two doing in that meadow, I'm wondering?"